I remember just a few weeks ago I sang the praises of summer…all of the things I love about summer. I remember how eagerly I anticipated the slower pace of life, how I soaked up the sun’s warmth like a lizard on a rock…well. Fast forward to today, June 22, I believe day 2 of the official start of summer, and I am trying to organize my storage building, sweating like a glass of ice water on my mom’s good dining room table, and wishing I had had the foresight to gather some cardboard boxes and trash bags before I plunged into the murk that is known as Kendrick excess. I hauled hoes, pool noodles, plastic jack-o-lanterns, and a badminton net out of cinderblock purgatory, with two phones, a pair of scissors, and the extra set of house keys stuffed in my pockets. My shorts were too tight and in between fussing at myself for not losing any weight yet and cursing my husband’s penchant for saving every lawn tool, broken or not, that we have ever owned, I answered calls and tried to take care of prayer requests for the email prayer chain and set out the slip-n-slide for my kids and two of their friends. I safety-pinned a make-shift bathing suit on a 5-year-old, prayed with Will and Emma because they could not play on the slip-n-slide without becoming physically abusive, and replaced Wii remote batteries for Jack and our friend, Jesse. At about 4:30, Justin stuck his head in said cinderblock purgatory and asked how it was going. Then he said it felt like it was 110 degrees in there and asked if I had any water to drink. I said no because I had told myself I would quit at 5:00 and I was almost there and I didn’t want to take the time to get a drink. He went and got me some water and asked me not to have a heat stroke.